


Rough Stuff

by battle_cat



Series: Together [35]
Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Attempt at Humor, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 08:32:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7162541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/battle_cat/pseuds/battle_cat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The consequences of wrestling as foreplay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rough Stuff

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt fill based on ghostjogging's art.

“Can tell you’re holding back,” he growls in her ear.

They’re panting, a slippery tangle of limbs and sweaty bare flesh. It’s the third time he’s nearly gotten her pinned.

“Oh, is that what you think?” she spits. She twists and gets enough leverage to flip them, not bothering to pin him but slipping out of his grasp as he makes frustrated noise.

“Come on, then,” he grits out, and then he lunges—faster than she expects. She scrambles toward the edge of the mattress, but he grabs an ankle, and then a knee before she can twist out of his grip, and then he has an arm around her waist, pulling her toward him in one of those surges of strength he usually keeps contained. It sends a rush of heat through her, distracting enough for a split second that he manages to flip her onto her stomach, before her competitive streak reasserts itself and makes her fight against his weight trying to pin her on the mattress—

 _Thonk._ Her elbow connects hard with a body part behind her.

“Ow.” From the squashed sound of his voice she’s guessing it was his nose.

“Ah, fuck.” She flips onto her back to see him holding a hand over his nose and blinking stars out of his eyes.

“Fuck, fuck, sorry.” He’s tipped his head back, fingers pinched over his nose, and she can see a trickle of blood. It’s just a trickle and it’s just his nose but it’s enough to curdle the liquid heat that had been building up inside her.

“Youb god hard elbows,” he mutters ruefully.

“Roadkill…shit…I’m sorry…” War Boy and Old World swears escape her as she gets to her feet and heads for the water pitcher and washrag on the ledge by the door.

“Agsident.” He settles down against the nearest wall, head still tipped back. “Cobes with the terridory.”

He sneaks a glance at her as she kneels on the bed to press the cool, wet cloth over his face to contain the swelling and soak up the blood. It’s not so bad, really, she can see when he moves his hand. She didn’t even split the skin. Still—

His eyes are dancing, and his chest is hitching in a strange way, and she suddenly realizes the fucking smeg is _laughing._ It’s more of a wheeze and a shudder than anything involving sound, but his eyes are crinkling at the corners while he holds the cloth over his face.

“What’s so funny?” It comes out sharper than she intended, and for some reason it just fuels the rusty little gasps coming out of him.

“Gonna bruise,” he grunts. “Just thinkin’…‘bout the looks we’re godda get tomorrow. Never godda hear the end of it from Toast.” 

Another round of silent wheezing while he holds the cloth over his nose. “Least you didn’t break it.” She can see the corner of a smile peeking out from under his hand. He experiments with taking the cloth off his nose; puts it back on as a stray trickle of blood escapes.

“If I’d broken it, you would know.” Her voice sounds oddly flat to her ears.

“Mm. Don’t think I’d mind.” He dabs at the blood, which has mostly stopped. “Conversation starter.”

She snorts, because it’s not like starting conversations is one of his regular activities. “Conversation ’bout how my girlfriend can kick your ass,” he says with a twitch of a smile.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” she snaps. Didn’t he understand, the fear that lingered, after so many years of reaching for a lethal blow as your first reaction? The reflex had burrowed in deep and she wasn’t sure if she would ever root it out. She was less on edge now; they both were. But not enough to get careless.

He must see something of her thoughts on her face, because his fingers brush the back of her hand. “Hey.” His thumb rubs over her knuckles. “Relax. ‘S a scratch.” He peels the cloth cautiously away from his face, dabs experimentally at a nostril. “See? Bleedin’s already stopped.”

His hand curls around hers. She sighs and sits down with her back against the wall next to him. Leans her bare shoulder against his.

“Seen you when you really wanted to hurt me,” he mutters. “Can tell the difference.”

The corner of her mouth twitches up. He gives her hand a squeeze. She lets her head rest on his shoulder.

After a moment she says, “You called me your girlfriend.”

“Mm. You don’t want me to?”

“No, it’s just…funny. Old-World. Janey and Eves talk like that.” She’d only ever heard the older Mothers use such terms, innocent words from another time. “Girlfriends and boyfriends and dates-ing.”

“Dating.” 

“Yeah, that. They tried to explain it, but…never really made sense.”

“Mm. People would…just go places. Do things. For fun. To spend time with each other.” He seems to know so many strange Old World things, as if his memories stretched back further than they should have.

“What kind of places?”

“Movies.”

“Heard of those.” The oldest Mothers had tried to describe the flickering images that told stories, but she still can’t quite picture them.

“Restaurants,” he continues. She’d heard of those too, fancy mess halls where you needed money to get provisions, but there was so much food you could pick what you wanted from a list and someone would prepare it just for you.

“Beach.” She knows that one from stories too, that water had once met the sand, so much water you couldn’t see the edge of it, although it had been too salty to drink.

“Mall.”

“We’ve done that one,” she says with a smile, although she imagines in the Old World the trip had involved less rappelling.

He laughs. “Yes.” A pause. “Or sometimes people would just…get in a car and drive around. For fun.”

“We can do that too. Boyfriend.” She nudges his shoulder affectionately.

“Hmmf.” He can tell she’s making fun of him. “What word would you use instead?”

She shrugs. “Lover.” Echoing what her mother had always called those who shared her bed. “Partner.”

“Those are good too.”

“What about this? Do boyfriends and girlfriends do this?” And before he can react she leans down and flicks her tongue over the head of his half-hard cock.

He makes a noise low in his throat. “‘S been known to happen.” She teases him with her tongue again and he groans.

She takes her time sucking him hard, until both their breathing has gone ragged. She presses a firm hand against his chest when he tries to shift on the bed. “Shouldn’t move,” she says slyly. “Don’t wanna start bleeding again.” She straddles his lap.

“‘M fff—” His protest vanishes in a rough exhale of breath as she sinks down on his cock, taking him in slow and deep. “You’re right,” he says as she starts rocking up and down, her movements lazy enough to make both of them ache for more. His hands slide around her waist while hers strokes into his hair. “Better stay here.”


End file.
